He was my first boyfriend, and I was puffed out like a pigeon with pride. Finally, I’d landed a guy. Even more delicious—he was an upper classman. Me, a puny sophomore, had snagged a glorious junior.
Only one problem: he was a creep—a fact which my dear mother reminded me of repeatedly. I did notice he wasn’t too smart, and I did notice he was lazy and sloppy, and I did notice he had a leering manner. All of which bugged me. But, no matter. It was a small price to pay to be able to strut around school with a guy at my side.
It’s painful being a lowly sophomore. Even my new haircut and contacts couldn’t disguise the truth of my awkward inexperience. Nor did they help hide my nerdiness. Having this guy seemed to dispel some of the angst and take me up a tiny social notch.
My mother—in her terror of inheriting a slob for a son-in-law—upped her campaign to get me to dump him. I wouldn’t do it. Surprisingly, I’d grown oddly fond of the guy.
Two years and many loooooooooong lectures later, we finally parted ways.
Looking back, I learned a lot from the relationship. The main thing I learned was never to try to make someone “fit” me for the sake of making myself feel better. Whenever I think of him (which admittedly is almost never), I send him blessings and good wishes.
How about you? Ever lower your dreams to feel better about yourself? Ever try to make something work when it’s plainly not in the stars? I’d love to hear about it.
And as always, thanks for stopping by!